


Pangs

by merr



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Episode Related: S3E10 Forever In A Day, Fluff, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merr/pseuds/merr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Addictions always run deeper than expected and grief is a bastard with many masks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Jack."

The colonel cringed in the half-dark of his position near the tree in his backyard, "When did you get so sneaky?"

Daniel slipped out of the back porch door, his mouth set in a stern line, "Ever since you decided to pick up smoking again."

Jack cringed harder, passing his tongue over his lips and glancing down at the burning ember pinched between his thumb and forefinger, smoke curling up over the edge of his hand; he'd learned to smoke surreptitiously in the black ops and even though it was reflex now, he knew it looked like he was trying to hide. He turned slightly and flicked the cigarette butt over his back fence to land in the alley. He couldn't decide on anything to say that didn't sound idiotic, so he stuffed his hands in his pockets as Daniel walked toward him.

He was wrapped in one of Jack's hooded sweatshirts, crossed arms pulling the shoulders tight even as the rest of the garment draped over his slender waist. He stopped a few feet from Jack, eyes flashing black-blue in the dim streetlights behind his glasses. The silence stretched, then constricted like a charlie horse between the two of them.

Jack broke first, pulling his hands out of his pockets and stepping toward the other man, "Danny, I didn't just decide to pick it back up--"

Daniel put a hand up, stopping Jack in his tracks, then tucked his glasses up the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms again. Jack stuffed his hands back into his pockets, clearing his throat and looking down, about to speak again by the time Daniel piped up, "Listen, Jack. I know you're a grown man. I know we go through awful stresses all the time popping between worlds. I'm not trying to bully you, but..." Daniel paused and brushed a hand back through the short haircut Hathor had given him a couple months ago, sighing. "Sam, Teal'c and I... we need you. You're not just our commanding officer, you're... you're like family. I think you know that already, and believe me, I'm not saying it's easy. I remember how I... how hard withdrawal can be."

As Daniel shuddered at the memory, Jack's hands balled into fists in his pajama pants pockets -- it'd been harder than hell to see Daniel like that, but it'd been even harder not to kiss him on his trembling mouth, wipe his tears away with a gentle thumb as he'd broken to pieces in Jack's arms, his terror echoing in the SGC storage room. It'd been even harder, though, to see Daniel curled in the corner of a padded room, dark circles under his eyes as he trembled against his brain chemicals; it still brought a flush of shame to Jack's face to remember the way he'd covered his straining emotions up with a callus remark in his practiced CO growl.

Hardest of all had been seeing Daniel reach out on the floor of the tent, one trembling hand running down Sha're's face as he whispered to her corpse. Jack stood, rooted on the spot, warring with himself -- sympathetic grief weighed the hardest. He remember what it was like to lose Charlie; remembered how it had felt when Sarah had finally snapped and walked out on him. Underneath the compassionate pangs of pain, Jack was ashamed by something very much like relief welling up underneath it all.

He chanced a glance up at Daniel in the dark of his backyard and bit the inside of his cheek -- Dr. Fraiser had insisted that Daniel stay with one of the team members for the few days Hammond had ordered the man to take off to deal with the fallout. Sam had been the one to pipe up that while she'd gladly welcome Daniel in her home for a while, Jack had an extra bedroom so that Daniel could have some privacy, too. Hammond locked eyes with Jack who was already nodding -- opening his home to the grieving man seemed the least of what he'd be willing to do for the brunet these days. The man was one of his only friends, his best friend if you asked Teal'c or Sam, and the relief washing toward Jack from the other people in the room was palpable.

Then Hammond gave guidelines and Fraiser gave him a bottle of anxiolytics and before he knew how, he was standing in front of Daniel's office door, knocking softly. When he didn't get an answer, he squared his shoulders and opened the door, finding Daniel sitting on his desk with his back to the door, turning an artifact over and over in his slender hands.

"Daniel." He clicked the door shut quietly behind himself.

"Hm?" Daniel turned his head slowly, the dullness of his eyes stabbing Jack just behind the ribcage before the widower turned his gaze back to the artifact in hand, "Time for the briefing, right?"

Jack put his own hands in his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet, "Actually, we just finished that. Doc and Hammond want you to take a few days off."

Daniel stilled, his eyes looking sightlessly at the monkey statuette in his hands, "I don't... want time off. I'm in the middle of a translation project from PX558."

Jack cleared his throat, rocking on his heels, "Ah, well, actually, Doc said it'd probably be a good idea for you to bring some work to my place, anyway."

Daniel took a deep breath, a bit of indignance creeping into his voice, which Jack found much less disconcerting than his previous flat tone: "So, now the SGC tells me where to sleep, too?"

Jack slipped his hands out of his pockets, back through his hair, "Daniel, trust me. It's not... a good idea to be alone on nights after days like these."

Daniel's fingers cinched down around the clay figure as his back stiffened: "I'm not a danger to myself and I doubt any of you know exactly how I should be feeling right now."

Jack rounded the desk in four steps to stand in front of Daniel; the two points of ice that bored up into his face calmed the colonel's nerves a bit but his voice came out stern: "I know enough to know that you ghosting around your goddamn apartment, surrounded by Egyptian artifacts and constant reminders of the person you lost is the worst idea I've heard out of your mouth in... ever."

Daniel's eyes softened a bit as the memory of Jack's losses blossomed past his own stony grief. He glanced down, fingers feeling numb as he mumbled, "I'm... sorry. I didn't think. I think I just..." The statuette fell out of his nerveless hands and cracked to pieces at Jack's feet as Daniel covered his face; it was strangely second nature for Jack to wrap his arms around the man as sobs started to wrack him.

As Daniel pushed his face against Jack's chest, the older man felt a rush of helpless anger -- it was one thing to know there was some alien species he could free his team from, some prison cell he could break them out of. This time, there was nothing for him to do, no way for him to fix it and the realization left him choking down a sudden knot in his throat as he tightened his arms out of reflex. Jack's adam's apple jerked as he tried to find words.

After a conspicuously long silence, Daniel gulped a couple times and dragged himself together. Jack let go as the younger man pulled away, a skeptical gaze firmly in place as the archaeologist cleared his throat and walked briskly to a shelf, cleaning his glasses on his undershirt as he went, "Just let me grab a few things, clean that up and then we can go."

Jack crouched down and picked the pieces of the statuette up, about to toss them in the trash before thinking twice and setting them carefully on the edge of Daniel's desk. Once he'd done so, he dumped himself into Daniel's deskchair, propping his crossed ankles just to the side of the broken monkey, "Done and hurry up. We can still order pizza if we leave soon."

On the drive back, Jack worked hard not to fidget in the strange silence of the suburban. He shot a glance over at Daniel once or twice through the dark, trying to come up with something to get the other man chattering again. For the second time inside an hour, Jack came up with nil to say and reached over to turn the stereo on, Aerosmith talking about sweet emotion; he cringed but put his hand back on the steering wheel, deciding that guitars were better than the crypt-cold silence rolling off in waves from Daniel.

As the key turned in the tumbler of his front door, Jack was still wondering how long it'd take Daniel to say something, dreading the idea of the man ghosting around his house for the whole stay, shutting himself up like a puzzle box. Jack was pleasantly surprised as Daniel pushed past him, dropping his duffle of extra clothes each of them kept at the SGC and walked to the fridge, "So, I'm assuming there's something full of hops in here somewhere -- ah, here." Daniel came up with two beers, opening one and taking a long drought of it before even pulling his coat off. As Jack locked the door behind himself, he couldn't help a grin -- drowning sorrows was something he knew a thing or two about and it was nice to be in familiar territory again.

He waved a hand toward the upstairs after tugging his coat off, "You know the drill; room's yours, I'll order pizza while you change."

Daniel nodded and grabbed his bag, disappearing up the stairs as he drank greedily out of the bottle. Jack rolled his eyes a bit, taking bets with himself how many beers it'd take until Daniel was sloppy enough to pass out on the couch as he dialed the pizza place.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time both men had showered, changed and ended up in the living room, the pizza'd arrived. Jack tipped big, as usual, and slid the piping hot box onto the table, "Dig in, if you can sit up straight..."

Daniel muttered an amicable curse at the colonel, setting his fourth beer already half gone on the table top, fiddling with the cardboard box, "'M not wasted yet, O'Neill; give me some credit."

Jack grinned, reaching in to snag a piece of meat-lovers and wrinkling his nose theatrically at Daniel's half, "I can't take anyone who likes fruit on their pizza seriously, Dannyboy."

Daniel gave a drunken grin, took a sizeable bite and mumbled around it, "This coming from a man who can't say 'meat-lovers' to the girl taking his order over the phone without a smirk."

Jack turned the tv on instead of answering, his grin turning into a cringe when the history channel blared out something about Ancient Egyptians -- he'd been watching a WWII documentary last time he was home. He flicked to the next channel quickly, leaning back into his armchair as nonchalantly as possible but from the way Daniel reached for his newest beer, he knew he hadn't been quick enough. Daniel took too large a swig and sputtered, swallowing the half-chewed crust in his mouth reflexively so he wouldn't spit it everywhere. By the time he was done coughing, Jack could almost convince himself that the Daniel's eyes were watering from choking half to death. Almost. 

"Jesus, Daniel, don't die on me. If the mountain of paperwork didn't kill me, Janet would."

Daniel cleared his throat and then drank deeply, tapping the empty bottle down onto the coffee table without speaking. He took his glasses off to swipe at his eyes, "Want another beer?" Jack watched as Daniel's mile-long legs carried him into the kitchen, grunting his assent. _Whatever it takes to make this easier, Daniel. Whatever you need._

When the archaeologist returned, he sat heavily on the couch, fumbling with the bottle opener for a moment. He cursed as he dropped it and Jack sat up, snagging it off the floor and snapping both the caps off before handing Daniel one. The other man took a drink, eyes far off behind his glasses, and slumped back against the sofa uncharacteristically, "Sha're made this amazing ginger root wine -- sweet, pale... but still packed a helluva punch."

Jack shifted on the armchair so he was facing Daniel better, getting physically comfortable as he prompted, "Yeah?"

"The funny thing was I could taste it, when she--" Daniel paused to correct himself: "When _Amounet_ had me with the ribbon device."

Jack took a small drink, rolling the bitter liquid back across his tongue. He was surprised Daniel was talking about it so soon; the younger man usually stowed his pain away behind an impassive face. Jack still remembered the tension in the younger man's stance when he'd sent Ke'ra through the stargate, lying perfectly through his teeth that they'd never known each other. 

Silver eyebrows furrowed as Daniel let out a little bitter bark of laughter, "You're... you're going to think I'm crazy. Just... just batshit. Hammond too, whenever he debriefs me."

On any other night, Jack would have snorted at the return appearance of foul-mouthed Sailor Daniel, but tonight, it made the hair on the back of his neck prickle, "Oh yeah? Why do you say that?"

"Sha're... she... hah," he took a deep swig of the cold alcohol in his hand before clearing his throat and continuing. "She... walked me through the grieving process." Jack tried, he really did, but he couldn't help the way his eyebrows jumped just a bit toward his silver hairline. Luckily, Daniel wasn't looking because he was busy slurring through is explanation, "She worked through it with me, showed me what it would feel like to leave the SGC, to reject Teal'c's apologies, to deal with your minimizations."

Jack, slightly buzzed as he was, started muttering, "You saw all of this, huh?" in a tone of voice that belayed obvious worry -- it wasn't that long ago that Daniel'd been locked in a padded cell because of alien-technology-induced schizophrenia. 

Daniel slammed his beer down on the coffee table, sitting ramrod straight, " _See?_ That. _That's_ what I'm talking about."

Jack flicked his gaze up, genuinely confused, "...What?"

Daniel jerked his hands in a show of frustration and stood, wavering slightly as the booze in his system translated to physical hyperbole -- which made him bump the empty bottles over with a loud clatter. He raised his voice, "You. Minimizing things you don't understand so you don't have to--"

Jack winced at the noise of glass bouncing on glass and Daniel paused just long enough to misinterpret the expression, "...DEAL with it. Because you don't WANT to deal with it!"

Jack sat up, slowly, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared up at Daniel. His words were short with automatic defensiveness, "Don't want to deal with _what_ , exactly?"


	3. Chapter 3

Daniel's eyes narrowed, slits of glittering ice and he stumbled forward, "Pain!" He shouted, shoving Jack's shoulders, "Yours, ours, anyone's! Makes you feel WEAK, doesn't it? Well, I've got news, Jack -- urk --"

Jack saw Daniel begin gag and shot up, hauling him through his bedroom and into the master bathroom before the lightweight could make a mess of his living room. He deposited the drunken man none too gently on his knees in front of the toilet, flipping the lid up just in time then stepped back with a sigh. He sat heavily on the edge of the tub, running his hands back through his hair as he winced in sympathy.

When Daniel'd stomach gave up the fight for a couple breaths, Jack held out a hand towel to him and said, "This is why I don't wear my heart on my sleeve, Daniel. Just ends up in puke and snot and a whole bundle of unnecessary drama."

Daniel took his glasses off, letting them drop to the tile and wiped his mouth, muttering, "Not drama, 's honesty. Better out than -- ugh--"

Any other time, Jack would've laughed at the timing but this night, in this moment, it just made his heart twist as he noticed tears leaking down Daniel's face. He reached out, putting a hand between the younger man's shoulder blades, rubbing his thumb in small circles, "Alright, Danny, whatever you say. Just get it out and you'll be alright."

Daniel gagged once more then managed to catch his breath, shrugging Jack's hand off and sitting back against the opposite wall of the bathroom, wiping his face again. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make the world stop spinning as he hissed, "Fuck you, Jack. I know you hurt, too. You were about to kill yourself when we met, for chrissakes."

Jack shook his head and moved toward Daniel, closing and flushing the toilet before picking the discarded glasses up, folding them closed before placing them gingerly on the sink. He caught his own eye in the mirror and glanced away quickly.

"Why d'you keep... keep acting like nothing phases you? Like you're fuckin'... fuckin' Superman or something?" When Jack turned, Daniel's eyes were squinting up at him accusingly. "No one needs you to be a superhero, Jack. We... we need you to be human so you can let _us_ be human, too."

Jack didn't address his drunken teammate, just leaned down to curl his arms under Daniel's shoulders and pull him to his feet. Daniel grunted and jerked against him, pushing him back roughly once he was on his feet. Jack stumbled a bit, not entirely sober himself, and landed on the closed toilet seat with a whoosh of breath, "Jesus, Daniel --"

He looked up as the man towered closer to him, the bathroom light just behind is head casting a half-halo as Daniel demanded, "What does it take to get you to open up, huh? I haven't heard you mention Skaara in months. 'Ve never heard you say a goddamn _thing_ about Charlie --"

Jack stood up quickly, his panic feeling a lot more like panic than it usually did -- usually, it came up as anger and people had stopped mentioning his son to him a long time ago. His pupils twitched wider and he growled, "Daniel; shut up."

The drunken man laughed bitterly, throwing his arms out to either side, "Or WHAT? You gonna lay me out, Jack? Huh? Punch m'lights out?"

Jack felt his heart sink, fists unclenching at his sides before he took a hold of Daniel, gently, moving him bodily into the bedroom, "No, Daniel, just... shut up before you say something you regret."

Daniel spun to face Jack, about to say something, but his coordination failed him and he stumbled forward, knocking his forehead into Jack's jaw, causing both of them to grunt in pain. Jack steadied the both of them and guided Daniel toward the bed, pushing him down to sit, then nudging the younger man to lay down on his back before Jack crouched in front of him, tugging his shoes off one at a time. Daniel's voice was far off, quieter, mollified at the unexpectedly gentle treatment, "I didn't mean to... to..." He waved a drunken hand in the air, then let it drop as the fight went out of him.

Jack set the man's shoes aside and sat on the end of the bed to begin unlacing his own boots, "I know, Daniel. Just... you're drunk. You've had a... shitty day, to say the least. Just get some sleep now, kay?"

Daniel fumbled with the bottom of his cream sweater, trying to drag it over his head as he mumbled, "Jus' don't want to... don'want you to be mad at me. Don't like it when we -- huh?"

Jack had reached over, helping Daniel sit up before wrangling the sweater off the younger man. The way Daniel blinked at him made his heart ache again -- mouth hanging open like it did sometimes when the archaeologist was stumped, eyes impossibly huge without his glasses and hair standing at wild angles. "...Jack?"

The colonel shook his head, moving down to mechanically unbutton the chinos Daniel was wearing, avoiding looking at the younger man's dark blue underwear as he tugged the pants off, "You're not sleeping in my bed wearing puke pants, Daniel. Get under the covers and get some sleep." He tossed the pants toward the bathroom and moved toward the bedroom door, "You're gonna be hungover as hell tomorrow, so better en-- hey!"

Daniel had scrabbled up to the edge of the bed, teetering where he grabbed Jack's wrist. When the silver-haired man turned to look at him incredulously, he let go, sitting back on his knees and looking down, "I... can you... sleep in here?"

Jack couldn't help his characteristic tone as he barked, "... _What?_ "


	4. Chapter 4

He watched as Daniel cringed, shoulders dropping, and kicked himself. He was surprised though, to see Daniel look up at him, eyes earnest, "I know... I know it's strange. I just feel... safe when you're near 'n we always share a tent offworld, 's just..." He trailed off and Jack swore he could see what it was costing the younger man to ask for this. _And you have no idea what it's costing me to say_ \-- "It's okay, Daniel. I get it. I'll.. I'll stay, but you better not start--" _Crying again_ "--puking again." _So close to me I won't be able to keep my shit together._

Daniel nodded, his body loosening as he asked, "Which, uh, which side do you normally...?" Jack rolled his eyes and pointed to the left side of the bed, furthest from the door. As Daniel moved under the covers with no little struggle, Jack turned away and pulled his shirt up over his head, dog tags clicking together as he undid his pants and pushed them down before grabbing a pair of pajama pants and slipping into them. It'd taken him maybe ten seconds, but when he turned around, Daniel was already three quarters unconscious on the right side of the bed.

Jack pushed his hands back through his hair again, letting them fall to the back of his neck as he dropped his chin to his chest. _This is a bad idea, O'Neill, and you know it._ He padded out into the living room to turn the light off, deciding he'd clean the mess up in the morning when he wasn't so exhausted. He closed the bedroom door quietly behind him as he came back and Daniel's voice was thick with sleep, edged with anxiety, "Jack? You said you'd--"

"Yeah, Daniel, I know, and I am. I was just turning the lights out. Go back to sleep."

As Jack crawled into bed beside Daniel, he tried to ignore the heat rolling off the other man's body -- how long had it been since he'd slept in his own bed next to another human being? _Another human being? Really? You're trying to play off how wide awake you are on it being another person in general? For crying out loud--_ Jack clenched his jaw and punched his pillow a bit before laying his head back down, willing himself to relax, muscle by muscle. He was already headed toward sleep when Daniel's small snores signaled the man was finally completely out and Jack didn't notice the little smile playing on his own lips at the familiar sound as he slipped into unconsciousness, too.

"'S too hot, too hot. Stop it..."

Jack turned rolled over quickly, half-reflex, half confusion -- it hadn't been long since he'd fallen asleep, so whatever'd woken him must be... "Daniel?"

The younger man was on his back, blankets thrown to the side as he muttered, "It's burning me, 's too hot, my face, it hurts --"

Jack put a sleep-heavy hand on Daniel's shoulder and shook him briskly, "Daniel. Wake up. 'S a dream, wake up."

As Jack's voice broke through the nightmare of Aumonet's hand device boring into him, Daniel's eyes shot open and he groaned, gripping his stomach. He still felt drunk, felt like the bed was spinning out of control as he ground out, "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to wake you -- Jack?"

The colonel's dog tags clicked again as he threw the blanket back over Daniel and let his heavy arm rest in place where it fell across Daniel's chest. Crisis averted, he was quickly losing the battle with consciousness again -- he may have been an irritatingly chipper morning person, but those mornings were always proceeded by at _least_ one REM cycle. He buried his face comfortably into the pillow and murmured, "'S fine, Danny, 'm not really awake, jus' go back to sleep now."

Feeling Jack's arm across him stilled Daniel's stomach even as it made his heart race -- he'd been too drunk when he asked if Jack would sleep in bed with him and now, at least a bit more sober, he wasn't sure what to do. His head swam with feelings of guilt, loss, longing, doubled guilt... he took a couple deep breaths, focusing on the familiar rhythmic sleep-breathing of the man next to him. _You're still drunk, he's pretty much unconscious, don't do anything stupid --_

His hand snaked out, less of it's own accord than Daniel would've liked to admit, and ghosted over one of Jack's hips, slipping further over to skim over the downy hair on his stomach. Daniel's breath hitched in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut as he guided his hand up, his heart fluttering at the feel and temperature of Jack's skin under his palm; he let it rest over the older man's heart, imagining he could hear it as well as feel it.

"What're you doin' Danny?" Jack's voice made him jump guiltily and he tried to snatch his hand away but Jack was too quick; he caught and held onto Daniel's fingers firmly, without malice. Daniel licked his lips as he searched for words, trying to sift through a hundred things at once but coming up silent. 

Jack's heart was hammering in his chest as he tried to keep his head clear -- he'd thought for sure he'd been dreaming when he felt the younger man's hand bump into his hip, ghost over his belly, but by the time Daniel had his palm pressed flat over Jack's heart, he was aware of the clear difference between fantasy and reality. Painfully aware.

He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at Daniel with wary eyes -- his hand wouldn't listen, wouldn't let go, and he said the man's name quietly, imploring. When those baby blues met his, a slat of streetlight reflected off the brimming moisture there and Jack was lost.

He leaned close, scooping a hand behind Daniel's head at the same time, bringing their mouths together for a tender, dry-lipped kiss. As he dipped his head back enough to look into Daniel's eyes again, he expected... just about anything except for Daniel to snap a hand up, grip the hair at the back of his head so hard it hurt and _crush_ their mouths back together.

Jack swallowed the other man's moan as he reflexively slipped his tongue into Daniel's mouth, letting the trembling hand go to cradle his head in both hands -- this was insane. Utterly and completely wrong. Hell, he could still taste the twin bitter twinges of beer and bile in Daniel's mouth, knew they were both likely still intoxicated -- nevermind the fact that the man trusted him so much he'd damn near begged for them to sleep in the same space so he could feel safe after nearly getting killed by and then watching his wife die in front of his eyes.

He broke away for a breath, damn near panting, "Daniel -- this is-- mmph!" Daniel was craning up off the bed, groaning as he slipped his tongue into Jack's mouth, rolling it against the roof of his mouth as he tightened his grip in that silver silk between his fingers. _Don't speak, just kiss me, just --_

Daniel rolled to his side, pressing closer to Jack, letting the older man feel how hard he was and pushing his free hand over the band of Jack's pajama pants, shivers racing up his arm as his thumb pressed against the Jack's answering desire.

Jack groaned this time as Daniel pressed their hips together and kept kissing him like he was trying to climb inside. He let his hands wander down Daniel's back, gripping that pert ass he'd always tried so damned hard not to stare at whenever they had to dig out dress blues and suits for formal functions; he felt the muscles clench for a moment as Daniel let out a sharp moan and pushed Jack over, crawling on top of him.

He finally let Jack's mouth go and they both panted as Daniel dipped his head to Jack's shoulder, biting, sucking; Jack rested one hand on the back of Daniel's head, the softness of his hair feeling foreign and familiar at the same time. He gripped parts of Daniel with his other hand, relishing in the weight of the man, the reality of the moment -- squeezed his hip, his side, his shoulder. Jack froze as Daniel gasped in his ear, voice low, "God, Jack, please -- fuck me, please. Until I can't breathe. Until I can't... I need you, Jack, please --"

Jack felt his groin tighten more, damn near to the point of pain, and he used both of his hands to firmly pull Daniel's head away from his throat. His voice was very clipped, very thick with emotion and endorphines as he spoke: "Look at me."

Daniel stared at Jack, eyes half lidded as he panted, hands slipping down lower and lower on Jack's body, "What, Jack? What?"

Jack took a deep breath and forced himself to ignore the way Daniel's hand was slipping under the waistband of his pajama pants, brushing across the head of his prick, "Daniel. Stop -- stop and --"

Daniel wrapped his hand around Jack, stroking down in one long motion before pulling up gently to do the same again; his eyes were struggling to focus as he breathed, "What, Jack? Tell me what you want --"

Jack saw the way Daniel's eyes stuttered and he swore at himself -- Daniel was drunker than he'd wanted to believe, and he... he had to know what it was Daniel was really looking for, even if his surprisingly dirty mouth had made some pretty lascivious requests, "No, Daniel. Tell me what _you_ want. What's going on in your head? What is this about?"

Daniel grinned sloppily, pushing his hand down further to palm Jack's entire cock, leaning down close to mouth one dusk-brown nipple nestled in sparse silver as he spoke, "This is about _you_ , pinning me to this mattress and fucking the grief out of me, until I can replace --"

Jack cinched his eyes together tight and snagged Daniel's wrists in his hands roughly, cutting him off -- he'd heard enough, _more_ than enough and couldn't stand to hear whatever was coming next. He spoke over the younger man, clearly and finally, "No. Damn you, Daniel, no."

Daniel pulled back, eyebrows draw together in reflexive anger, "Ouch, Jack -- that hurts --"

"No, Danny; _you're_ the one hurting _me_."

Daniel's face crumbled as he heard the tone and the words fell out of him as Jack let go of his wrists and pinched the bridge of his nose, clenching his eyes closed tighter. "No -- Jack, I... I want this because I --" He choked on the next words and Jack pushed him down onto the bed, forcing Daniel to face away from him even as he put a strong arm around his chest, palm flattening over Daniel's heart.

"Daniel. It's alright, okay? You're drunk and grieving and I get it. I've been here before, been there... Point is, you'll regret this like you wouldn't believe in the morning." Daniel was choking on tears now, unable for the first time in memory to find words that made sense. He put his hands on Jack's arm, holding on as he tried to swallow down sobs; Jack moved his other arm up and around before resting his stubbled cheek on his bicep, a hand on Daniel's hair, moving his fingers in short, gentle strokes. He felt every jump of Daniel's sobbing chest his as if it were his own.


	5. Chapter 5

When Jack woke up the next morning, he looked around almost immediately for signs of Daniel -- he'd spent longer than he cared to think about holding the widower until he'd cried himself back to sleep, then holding him to be sure he didn't have nightmares... and then just holding him, because he'd wanted to for so long. They'd fit together so well that waking up without his arms around Daniel was a bit disorienting.

Jack had always kept things platonic -- it wasn't such a hard thing to do in the beginning when he couldn't really muddle through this attraction to the younger man, but as time went on, it took more and more effort to keep things as normal as they could be on SG1. Jack'd had nightmares, sometimes, about something picking their friendship to pieces; it always left a horrible ache in his chest when he woke up, the image of doubt and cold anger on Daniel's face just for him damn near calling up goosebumps.

The thought of those nightmares rolled him up out of the bed and he padded out toward the kitchen and living room, scratching his bare chest as he went. There was no way in hell he was gonna let Daniel talk himself into oblivion over what'd happened last night so first order of operations was to pinpoint his quarry. The kitchen, though smelling of coffee, was empty, as was the living room, but as Jack peeked out his living room window, he caught sight of Daniel's hunched shoulders. 

Jack grabbed two sweatshirts out of the hall closet and slipped on some shoes and the hockey-themed hoodie before opening the screen door slowly, "You know, the end of November isn't really t-shirt weather in Colorado, Daniel."

A pair of blue eyes flicked over at him, then down to the hooded garment he was holding out before taking it gently, "I'm still used to warmer climates I guess... Thanks." 

The brunet set his coffee down for a moment, folded his glasses neatly onto the railing next to the mug and tugged the sweatshirt on; Jack leaned forward against the railing next to the younger man, watching from the corner of his eye as he thought _Could be, but probably not. I've been there before, too, Dannyboy._

Jack turned his gaze out over the back yard when Daniel reached for his glasses, asking as amicably as possible, "So. Need some greasy hangover breakfast?"

Half a smile, "I've got coffee, but thanks."

Jack nodded, leaning over just a bit to peer in Daniel's mug before holding his hand out, "Need a refill? M'gonna go get some for myself."

Daniel looked down into his mug, too, quiet for a moment before giving a small snort of laughter. Jack grinned reflexively, raising an eyebrow but Daniel spoke first, "Ah sure, that'd be nice. Thanks."

Jack snagged the mug and grinned even wider as he slipped back inside. Maybe things wouldn't have to be as awkward as he'd been afraid they would; they were both grown men, after all. These things happen, especially in times of stress and pressure. _...Hopefully the hardest thing left to do will be to try and forget what Daniel's mouth feels like_ Jack thought as he grabbed down a second mug and filled them both. 

By the time he got back to the porch door, Daniel was there, opening it for him and accepting the mug of coffee with a small smile and murmured thank you. Jack shrugged off the little voice that piped up how easily he could get used to this -- Daniel, first thing in the morning, wearing one of Jack's sweatshirts, drinking coffee from one of Jack's mugs, just having spent the night in Jack's arms. _C'mon, O'Neill; we're doin' the whole platonic thing, remember? Besides, when did you get so goddamn mushy anyway?_

The silver-haired man took a small drink of steaming coffee and settled back in on the railing next to the other man before resting his square-tipped fingers around the warm porcelain. He didn't speak, didn't feel the need to break the silence. He was, first and foremost, happy that Daniel'd made it out of that stupid tasseled tent alive; simply being near him was enough. Despite whatever feelings he had toward the younger man, friendship was still the strongest.

"So, anything planned for today?"

Jack thought for a second then shrugged, "Not that I can think of. Was planning on just sitting around being a lazy sonofabitch, to be honest."

Daniel cracked another one of those half smiles, blew on his coffee reflexively before speaking, "You? Lazy?" 

Daniel took a sip as Jack turned to rest his lower back on the railing, holding his forest-green mug in one hand so he could gesture with the other, "Well, fishing isn't exactly hardcore cardio and I'm not gonna drag you to the cabin... so some other minimal-effort activity will have to do."

Daniel turned mischievous eyes at the colonel, "So, watching hockey?" 

Jack made a wounded noise, "Hey! Watching hockey is a sport in and of itself!"

Daniel laughed -- it was short, yes, but it was a laugh and it was infectious -- before deadpanning, "Well, the way _you_ watch it, maybe you're right."

The grin on Jack's face barely shrank as he took a drink of coffee and was back in full force by the time he swallowed. He was about to make some quip about letting Daniel choose what they watched first but the younger man, as he so seemed to love doing, interrupted him: "So, uh, about last night."

Jack's expression faltered, just a bit, but he shrugged, "I told you then and I'll tell you again now: I've been there and there's nothing to get all bent outta shape about. Don't worry about it."

The younger man tipped his head to the side a bit, not looking at Jack, "What if... I was already bent out of shape?"

Jack blinked, eyebrows clipping upward even as he defaulted to acting dumb, "I have no idea what you just said, but... don't worry about it?"

Daniel gave a small snort then, tipping his head up and squinting at the partial cloud cover, "You said that, when Amounet had me with the ribbon device. Well, something very close to it, anyway -- you said that you missed how even when you had no idea what I was saying, you'd believe me." 

Jack was half distracted by admiring the way the delicate skin around Daniel's eyes crinkled when he did his signature squint and so only murmured over his coffee, "Oh yeah? What else did I say?"

Daniel adjusted his glasses, tipping his head down to take a sip of coffee then turning to mirror Jack's lean on the other corner of the porch railing, "Well, you came to my office when I was leaving, to try and talk me out of going."

Jack met those baby blues just long enough to raise an eyebrow. He took a drink of coffee to keep himself from blurting something close to 'You're goddamn right I would' and instead asked, "You were gonna leave the SGC? Pfft, I'd give it a week before you missed--"

"You?" 

Daniel's amusement at knowing Jack so well deepened into affection as the colonel's stubbled face flushed a bit, "Ah -- well, Sam and Teal'c, too."

The younger man nodded, his smile fading some. Jack kept quiet, noticing the expression change and hoping that if he didn't spook Daniel away, the man would actually open up about his pain again -- while they were both sober and could perhaps get somewhere with it.

"You tried to remind me that I couldn't walk away from living history, and... yeah, you were right. ...I think Sha're knew that I... that I needed her help to get through losing her, if that makes sense."

Daniel peered over at Jack and the colonel tried to keep his face open, to let go of his doubts. Daniel sounded so damn _certain_ that Sha're had communicated with him through the ribbon device that... well, Jack couldn't deny that weirder things had happened to them all since the Stargate program started, "I'm... glad to know that she could give you that, Daniel."

The archaeologist squinted again, searching his best friend's face for sarcasm. When he couldn't find it, he relaxed a bit, took another drink of coffee and let the silence rest between them for a few seconds. 

Just as Jack was about to say they should head in because he could barely feel his fingers anymore, Daniel piped up, "You'd think... it would be easier."

Jack stuffed his free hand in his pocket, remembering how warm Daniel's shoulder had felt against his chest in the dark the night before, "What would?"

The younger man pushed off the railing to run a hand back through his hair, "Adjusting to knowing she's gone. If I already had a chance, why does it still hurt? I mean, I'm glad I didn't leave the SGC or push you or Sam or Teal'c out of my life, but still." Daniel pushed his fingertips over his temple, signing a bit, "And, to be honest, I feel just... _guilty_ that I'm letting myself be so head over... oh. Oh!" 

Jack stood forward too, brows knitting in concern, "You-- you okay, Danny? What's wrong?" 

Daniel had the far away look on his face that he got when he figured something out and by the time he came back into focus, there was a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, "She knew me... really, really well, you know that, Jack?"

Still a bit suspicious, Jack raised his eyebrows, doing his signature 'okay, enlighten me' head shake -- to which Daniel responded with by laughing and heading into the house, calling behind him, "Okay, so, I'm picking the first movie!"

Jack stood there bewildered for a moment but then shrugged and followed the younger man in the house. He didn't have to understand _how_ Daniel was processing this whole thing -- he just wanted to be there for him. It didn't have to make sense as long as their friendship made sense; that'd always been enough and Jack was willing to be in the dark about some details as long as the events of the night before hadn't put a chasm between the two of them. 

He had to groan, though, when he heard the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark blaring from the living room. Rueful grin taking shape, he thought _The things a man'll put up with outta love..._

**Author's Note:**

> It's not over yet, but sooooooon >:D Also, shit I feel rusty after only a month of being away, wtf .-.


End file.
